| Starpoet Newsletter Vol. VII, No. XXX |
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| Newsletters | |
| Written by Lisa Jain Thompson | |
| Sunday, 23 July 2006 | |
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The
Starpoet Newsletter Vol VII, No. XXX songs of our youth
drift across the beach reminding us of the years we lost as we led our separate lives denying ourselves
what we knew
must be
and now
finally
just is
Lisa Jain Thompson c. 2006 C.E.
 __/\/\/\/\__
^^\/\/\/\/^^ <><><><><> First attempt at the new system. Bear with me.
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^^\/\/\/\/^^ something lighter
Smells Like The Neo-Con Rag
C’mon all you young Neo-Cons,
Raise your glassed to Armageddon; Raise your voices, let’s here a cheer, The end of the world soon draws near; Join the Army, now don’t be afraid To sleep in the bed you made. All of you praying for a Second Coming,
All of you planning Jesus’ homecoming, Get down on your knees, let’s hear you pray, Your god’s great judgment is on its way; Don’t run away, don’t dare deny, You can be the first to die. Now it’s one, two, three, four,
What’s the world all fighting for, Religious theory and Neo-Con beliefs? Whoopee! We can’t get no relief! And it’s five, six, seven, eight,
Pick someone you love to hate, Send all your sons and send all your daughters, We’re lambs being led to the slaughter. Lisa Jain Thompson
July 2006 o.k., so maybe that wasn't so light. Sorry. Imagine it sung to the Feel Like I'm Fixin to Die Rag.
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^^\/\/\/\/^^ In a time when it is so common to do evil,
it is practically praise-worthy to do what is merely useless. -- Montaigne On Vanity __/\/\/\/\__
^^\/\/\/\/^^ time passes on
Progress
Four hundred years before
I could not strut upon the stage,
God and The Church forbid it. A century ago, or so,
I was darker than I was white, Church and Government so decreed. Now I'm told I'm queerer
Than good folks need to see, Church and Republicans declare it That I may not married be. How quaint. How reverent.
Just like the good Italian Popes
Who found it easier to support Hitler Than allow birth control or let gays elope. Lisa Jain Thompson
July 2006 __/\/\/\/\__
^^\/\/\/\/^^ God made man
God made woman God made cleft pallettes And people born transsexual
LJT
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^^\/\/\/\/^^ Where we, the people born transsexual,
take back control of our own lives Excerpt from the
STANDARDS OF CARE
FOR HARRY BENJAMIN'S SYNDROME
Síndrome de Harry Benjamin
First Draft, May 2006 Copyright @ 2006 Charlotte Guren http//shb.es.tripod.com
Principle 1.
Harry Benjamin’s Syndrome is a biological variation in human sexual formation –an intersex condition- where the sex indicated by the phenotype and the genotype is opposite the morphological sex of the brain. Principle 2. Persons born with Harry Benjamin’s Syndrome are born with male and female characteristics, and they seek rehabilitation of their phenotype and endocrinology to accord with their dominant sexual identity, an identity which is determined by the structure of the brain. Harry Benjamin’s Syndrome is about matching one’s physical sex with one’s brain sex, it is not about sexual behavior. Harry Benjamin’s Syndrome is about being a particular sex, not about “doing it”. It is also about recognising gender norms, not challenging them ...
Principle 8. Harry Benjamin’s Syndrome should not be confused with gender variant conditions or with sexual orientation issues. It is a physical anomaly curable with hormonal-surgical intervention ....
We will be going into the new standards of care in depth at the Transsexual Symposium Policy Review (http://www.ts-policyreview.org/). Look for our analysis soon.
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^^\/\/\/\/^^ something lighter (I promise)
Sucralose
If I were a modern poet,
I would compose aspartame verses Filled with erudite scholarship,
But I am not that poet, Nor would I want to be. Who I am, I cannot say;
Who I was, I do not believe; Who I'll be, I'll never know. I write,
Time passes, The sun rises, Then I'm gone. Sucralose.
Lisa Jain Thompson
July 2006 __/\/\/\/\__
^^\/\/\/\/^^ Being miserable does make you better than anyone else
-- It just makes you miserable. -- House
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^^\/\/\/\/^^ summer
Flare Up
Solar flare,
Northern Lights, Somewhere above the city glare. I wouldn't know
Deep in the heat sink, If anything dimmer than Venus appeared. The heavens show better
On a high plateau, But most of them Offer little human comfort, And even there the urban forest Does its best to deglorify the Milky Way.
Lisa Jain Thompson
July 2006 __/\/\/\/\__
^^\/\/\/\/^^ the last decision
In The End
In the end,
The decision is to stop breathing, Let the pain slip away And your heart slowly silence; That moment lies before us all
Unless we check out suddenly, Then, it's like a light switch:
On, then off, with no on again.
Lisa Jain Thompson
July 2006
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^^\/\/\/\/^^ BEATING AROUND BUSH
Let's see:
The neocons are unhappy with Bush.
The social conservatives are unhappy with Bush. The fiscal conservatives are unhappy with Bush. The limited-government libertarians are unhappy with Bush. The business community has to be at least a little nervous about the debit and immigration policy.
Is there any part of the Republican coalition that is satisfied with Bush?
Oh, Yeah,
Those who oppose federal funding of embryonic stem cell research. __/\/\/\/\__
^^\/\/\/\/^^ watching, listening
86 Corpses
86 corpses in wooden caskets
Dead buried in temporary graves; Rotting flesh mingled with spray paint Writing the names on the coffins Like street artist graffiti. 70 more bodies stacked in the freezer truck,
Waiting to fill the empty boxes; Apache gunships droning overhead, Drowning out the funereal crowds Gathered for the lowerings. Old man nailing coffins shut,
Friends and family weeping; Loosely wrapped bodies In plastic or bloodied blankets Waiting to be ensealed, Then ferried to the potters’ field
Where two trenches have been dug; A mass grave to hold the dismembered dead Until, the fighting ended, they can be returned, Handed back over to the living. Women and children,
Collateral damage for picking the wrong side; Somebody’s mother, somebody’s child Who will grow no older, Who will win no heroic medals of war. A tiny body under a dying tree
In a close nearby orange grove, A mother, meters away, Leg severed above the knee, Bleeding out before an ambulance arrives. A playground for bombs and missiles,
Where men compete for mountain king; Our people, our countrymen, Our family and babies, Trophies for their religious zeal. Tyre is ablaze
With the blood of Islam and Israel; Governments stand idle, Counting bodies from the sidelines, While Lebanon weeps. Lisa Jain Thompson
July 2006 __/\/\/\/\__
^^\/\/\/\/^^ PEACE
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^^\/\/\/\/^^ Send your letters and postcards to This e-mail address is being protected from spam bots, you need JavaScript enabled to view it © Lisa Jain Thompson 2006
Further distribution of this newsletter in its entirety is authorized. |
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